The Magician's Assistant
by SupernaturalAngel
Summary: When the key to a murder mystery is Effy James, an unusual six year old, Patrick Jane finds his hands full, trying to tease answers out of a troubled little mind.
1. Prologue

**The Magician's Assistant**

**Prologue: The Castle**

**Summary:** _When the key to a murder mystery is Effy James, an unusual six year old, Patrick Jane finds his hand full, trying to get answers out of a troubled little mind._

* * *

The mansion sat atop a high cliff above the crashing ocean waves, like something completely out of a fairytale. Or perhaps a horror movie was more appropriate, Jane reconsidered, as Lisbon drove past the wrought-iron gate and steered into the narrow dirt road leading up toward the house.

"Jesus, did you ever think a place like this existed in California? Looks like some sort of castle you'd find in the middle of a Scottish moor." Lisbon commented. Jane could see that she was impressed by the massiveness of the building- and the huge forensic investigation it would entail.

"It's built to look like one. But it's not. It's, in fact, fairly new. Somewhere between ten and twenty years, I'd say. Impressive, nonetheless."

Lisbon locked the car, heading toward the house. She ran her hand over the nearest wall.

"Feels like stone to me. Old stone. Hundred ad hundreds of years old stone."

"Oh, yes. The stone is old. The stone was shipped from Europe. Ireland, I'd say. But maybe Scotland. Expensive taste, an admiration of tradition. Who lives here?" He asked, with a tone that plainly spelled out that he had a very good theory.

"Take a guess," Lisbon challenged, knowing the answer was just too unusual to be guessed, even by a former psychic.

"Well, a woman's been murdered, so I'd guess she lived here alone. Very rich, but obviously centered her life on the home. No husband. A child, just one, about five. A girl." Lisbon opened her mouth, her look whizzical, but Jane continued. "She had a flair for theatrics, but she wasn't an actress, or the paparazzi would have swarmed this place. An heiress, I'd guess. Living off a trust fund. An impressive one." He turned to Lisbon with that smug grin.

"How's my guess?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes and began inside.

"She's not five, she's six."


	2. Effy

**The Magician's Assistant**

**Chapter One: Effy**

**Summary:** _When the key to a murder mystery is Effy James, a quirky six year old, Patrick Jane finds his hand full, trying to get answers out of a troubled little mind._

* * *

"The kid called the crime in, but we can't find her." Cho greeted them the moment they stepped into the door.

"What do you mean you can't find her? You searched everything? Under beds, in the closets? Hampers?" Lisbon asked, looking around. The house was furnished in the same dramatic, vintage manner of the architecture. Jane wandered toward the window, running his hand over the red velvet drapes.

"Everything. She's not here."

"This place is in the middle of nowhere. Get a helicopter out here. She could have run miles by now, in any direction…"

"Yes boss."

Jane turned. "She's in here."

Cho crossed his hands, and Lisbon followed suit. This was not the time for another of Jane's games and goose chases. A six year old was out there somewhere, terrified and probably hiding.

"What's the victim's name?" Jane inquired, still taking in the grand surroundings.

"Evelyn James."

"Walcott James's widow. And the kid's name?"

"Elisabeth. Who's Walcott James?"

"She's in here." Jane turned to the two agents. "She's in the house, Lisbon. Walcott James was one of the best magicians of the century. He was killed last year, doing a bullet catch. He was Scottish. He must have built this house. Flair for drama, obviously."

"How does this mean that Elisabeth is still in here?"

"Secret rooms," Cho piped up.

"Exactly." Jane headed up the curving staircase. "Now all we have to do is find them."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. Cho shrugged and began to lead her to the playroom, where the body had been found. Jane could go around knocking on walls and pulling books to try to make bookcases move, but she had to get to work.

The playroom was the first place Jane examined, of course. The walls were striped in primary colors, which made seeing any cracks almost impossible. As the forensics team examined blood spatter, he ran his hand over all the walls, feeling the wallpaper carefully for any possible inconsistencies.

Finding nothing, he stopped and examined the room. It was oddly neat for a room in which a little girl was the main occupant. The toys were all old fashioned, wooden, tin and brightly painted. It was obvious that James had taken great care; the room was full of the same traditional style that was his signature in his illusions, and his home. Elisabeth was a well-cared for, but not spoiled little girl, from the looks of it. Jane's eyes lingered over the little girl book scattered across a chaise lounge_. Madeline_. _Madeline_ was his daughter's favorite. He looked away, watching Lisbon, who caught his eye for a moment while listening to the forensics expert. He could tell she knew what he had been thinking, so he smiled at her and turned on his heel.

A bookshelf lined the entire wall across from the windows. He eyed the books, looking for a Bible, an old book, something that looked out of place. But the books weren't only children's books, and there was no Bible among them at all. He searched for the most worn book next. The tattered spine of _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe_ caught his eye. He pulled the book out. Nothing. Nothing happened, a key failed to fall out.

The wardrobe.

He strode to the other side of the room, toward the old chestnut wardrobe, hastily opening the doors. He checked himself for a moment, knowing it was fully possible that a scared little girl was listening, terrified that the murderer was going to find her. He moved several hangers of sweaters, a pea coat, and dress-up outfits aside, feeling for the back of the wardrobe. He knocked. It sounded hallow. He ran his hands over the entire back, trying to find the mechanism that would make it swing open. Nothing. He tried the bottom next, but it was as smooth as the rest of the piece.

He pulled his head out for a moment, surveying the imposing piece of furniture. The trick had to be simple. Simple enough for a little girl to be able to open the door in a hurry and not be caught. Jane eyed the elaborate twin handles, and twisted upwards. A quiet mechanical sound came from the back and Jane poked his head in again.

"Elisabeth? My name is Patrick Jane, and I'm with the police. I'm going to help you."

But there was nothing, except for an entrance to a dark stone tunnel.

"Jane, what are you doing?" Lisbon appeared at his shoulder. The entire group of agents and the local police where eyeing him, eyebrows raised.

"I'll be right back, Lisbon." He began climbing into the wardrobe.

Lisbon turned, shaking her head at the crowd and offering an apologetic smile, which if Jane had seen, he would known to interpret as _I'm going to kill you for embarrassing me_. "Cho, gather a search party."

"Give me five more minutes," came a muffled voice from inside the wardrobe.

* * *

The tunnel was pitch black, and if it weren't for the light from his cell phone, he might not have realized that the passageway was a bit of a maze. It branched into a narrow, twisting staircase leading up and a stone slide. He chose the slide, which was tight for his adult sized hips, and felt himself descend about one story before his feet hit the ground. Another narrow passage stretched before him. But at the end of it, he could hear the faint, ragged sound of breathing.

"Elisabeth?" He repeated his assuring words again, pointing the light of his phone up at the tiny figure shivering, sitting on a stone step at the end of the tunnel.

"It's okay, you're safe." He walked toward her slowly, holding his hand out.

"I'm impressed you can find your way so well here, in the dark. See, I've got a light." He offered her his phone. She shook her head.

"Come on, princess. You must be hungry and thirsty. Some police people want to make sure you're safe. Everyone's been looking all over for you, Elisabeth. You hid so well."

"Effy." She said softy, touching Patrick's fingers hesitantly before sliding her hand entirely into his palm.

"What's that?" He asked, taken aback.

"It's Effy. My name."

"Oh. My mistake. Come on, Effy."

_Author's Note: I am from Chicago! Bonus points. But I'm actually changing the girl's name. :( Kedzie Kimball did have a cool ring, didn't it?_


End file.
